"I don't really know... He knows how to use it better than me," The word 'he' had a heavy tone of anger in his voice, and it even revealed itself in his features. "but if I let him out, I don't know if I can keep him in control." Unbeknownst to Walter, the groundwork was being laid out for him; the room was starting to look sickly, the books began to become tattered, and the books were almost literally falling apart. The room itself looked like it crawled out of Stephen Kings sickest nightmare; even a couple of the lights would flicker around for a bit until they finally died, only to come back alive with vigor, then suddenly began to die again.
"It hurts when I try." He said somewhat pathetically. "Like I'm dying again."